Breath of Life
by KatanaBladeArtist
Summary: Hesitation is most often caused by inner torment. Some types are worse others. And then there's Sasuke's own, unique brand of personal torture. Oneshot.


_**A/N: Call me crazy, but I've always thought "Breath of Life," by Florence and the Machine, **_**_describes Sasuke and his Curse Mark and/or Orochimaru's quest for immortality._**

**_Slight SasuSaku._**

**_I don't own Naruto._**

* * *

_{{And I only needed one more touch}}_

He slithers through the halls, surrounded by armored figures twice as tall and broad as he. Their metallic boots produce loud, synchronized clunks as they hit the stone floor.

He can't help but think they're being a little _too _cautious. But then he realizes; they know his true power. They're…_afraid. _Of _him._

He smirks.

_{{Another taste of divine rush}}_

He thinks back to when he first received his mark.

To the agony of turning for the first time.

To the frightened and shocked expression of his female teammate.

To the absolute abhorrence in the faces of his enemies.

To the feeling of sheer _power, _racing along his skin, coursing in his blood.

_{{I believe it, I believe it so}}_

The mark in question twinges again, a sharp needle of discomfort spearing through his entire being, pulsating from his collarbone.

Unconsciously, his right hand reaches up to massage the area, as it has been doing for the six months since the disastrous exams.

_{{Whose side am I on?}}_

Memories.

His mother's gentle smile. His father's hand on his head. His brother's fingers on the bridge of his nose.

His best friend's foxlike laugh. His sensei's deep, soothing voice. His love-interest's brilliant pink hair. His rival's jade-marked forehead. His self-proclaimed-number-one-fangirl's fierce teal eyes.

All of them rush back to him.

_{{Whose side am I?}}_

He can't help but wonder if he's made the right choice.

It's been tearing him apart.

Revenge or life?

_{{Whose side am I on?}}_

The power to defeat his family's murderer?

The authority of a high-ranking ninja?

The honor of one of the most powerful mentors in shinobi history?

_{{Whose side am I?}} _

Or the warmth of a new family?

The iron bonds between teammates?

A sensei who cares, who understands?

_{{And the fever began to spread, from my heart down to my legs}}_

He stops walking. He can't force himself to move anymore.

He knows he walks a path of darkness, yes, but what if that path can be diverted?

What if it doesn't have to be this way?

_{{But the room is so quiet, oh…}}_

His guards have stopped now, too. He feels their irritation, and again reminds himself of his true purpose.

_I am an avenger. Avengers cannot feel anything other than hate and rage. I am an avenger. I have no feelings. I am an avenger. I have no thoughts. I am an avenger. I AM AN AVENGER!_

_{{And although I wasn't losing my mind}}_

He repeats it over and over and over, in his mind, trying desperately to continue his march.

His head orders him to move; his heart orders the opposite.

_{{It was a chorus so sublime}}_

Then, he remembers.

_I can't attain the power to defeat Itachi within Konoha's walls. I had to leave. I will return. I have to. Once Orochimaru and Itachi are out of the way, they'll be safe. I can go back._

As if by magic, his sandals come unstuck. He stumbles forward.

_{{But the room is too quiet, oh…the fever…}}_

His breath hisses from between clenched teeth. Suddenly, the wide hallway is suffocating and hot and dry and _not like home._

The guards are staring, still, silent, statues of steel.

He can almost feel the blood rising to his face, boiling with life.

And he knows what he has to do.

_{{I was looking for a breath of life}}_

He jumps up, up, up, clinging to the low ceiling as he spider-crawls over the guards' heads.

Their hands reach for him, grasping.

The sharp metal gauntlets tear at his clothes, and soon smears of blood coat his pale, pale skin.

_{{A little touch of heavenly light}}_

A blast of blue breaks through the thick, tan rocks above him.

The guards turn away; they can't bear to look at him. Why?

Because he burns.

Beautiful bluebell flames are surrounding him, fed by the wells of chakra within his coils.

_{{But all the choirs in my head sang, "No…"}}_

He's feeding more and more of his energy into the fire. It's beginning to melt the rocks around him.

And he can hear Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, Itachi, Fugaku, Mikoto, Ino, Choji, Shikamaru, Neji, Kiba, Hinata, Shino, Tenten, Lee, Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma.

They're crying in his ears.

Shrieking at him to stop, to go back, to cease…

_{{I believed it}}_

Abruptly, he cuts off the flow of energy. The fire sizzles away, smoke hissing into the air.

The guards are already dead, what little of their skin he can see boiled red like a cooked lobster's.

He does the only thing he can.

He falls to his knees, hands over his ears, as the choirs in his head sing on and on, and he _screams._

_{{To get a dream of life again}}_

They fill his mind's eye, smiles warm, eyes bright, shining like stars.

And she's there.

Her cerise hair gleams in the white lights, jade irises twinkling like miniature suns.

_{{A little vision of the start and the end}}_

His life flashes before his eyes, every scene of happiness and warmth and _family._

He can't deny the aching in his chest now.

And then there's a hand on his shoulder, he's snapping back to reality, and staring the snake-like man in the face, amber and onyx gazes meeting in the middle of the room in a clash of invisible sparks.

"Come with me, Sasuke-kun. I will give you your heart."

_No, _he thinks, _you can't. You don't have it._

He's going numb; drifting away from his body, and he watches himself speak the word that will seal his fate, as if it's happening to someone else, someone he doesn't know.

"Yes."

_{{But all the choirs in my head sang, "No…"}}_


End file.
